Quick Silver
by Nerdz-Will-Rule-The-World
Summary: Sherlock Holmes was seven years old and he had gotten caught by the police for hacking into an Internet Cafe. And Greg Lestrade knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the boy who sat in front of him had the eyes of a middle aged man who knew of the hateful world he lived in. And when he could find nothing on the little boy he was confused and years later he found out why.


_Any, any, a love letter left behind for posterity, because if history will judge them for it, they may as well have all the facts._

*.*.*.*.*.*

"Your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

I heaved a sigh. "Your _real_ name?"

The young boy in front of me blinked. He couldn't be older than 7. "That _is_ my real name. Sherlock Holmes, spelt S-H-E-"

"Alright I get it." I penciled down the so called name on my report, the words _Sherlock Holmes _looking ridiculously silly among the rest of the important information in the report. "Address?"

"221B Baker Street." That was written down. Glancing up at the boy, I quickly filled in a brief physical description.

'_Roughly 6-7 years old, short curly hair, grey eyes, pale complexion, appears disheveled and possibly malnourished. Background check may be necessary.'_

The clipboard was placed onto the table, and the boy - Sherlock - glanced briefly at it, before his eyes slid back to meet mine. His face was carefully blank, hiding the fear and apprehension that any boy his age was sure to have in an encounter with the police. His eyes didn't betray anything he was feeling; it was more like they were walls, cautiously shielding what was behind them. It unnerved me; kids his age shouldn't have the look that normally belonged to weary, middle-aged men.

I tried to smooth my features into a more gentle, child-friendly expression. I could tell he didn't fall for it.

"So…_Sherlock._" I hesitated, not sure how I should begin this.

"Yes?" How could he be so calm? He was being interrogated! I would be _panicking_ if I was in his position!

_Calm down, I need to think rationally here. Wouldn't want to mess this up. _Deep breath.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Yep."

"I was told you were, uh…messing around with the computers in the internet café. And it wasn't the first time it had happened. Right?"

"Yep." Doesn't even sound remorseful.

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"I was using the internet." He gave me an almost condescending look. "Isn't that what you normally do in an internet café?"

It wasn't my fault that I twitched a bit. I got landed one of the uncooperative ones, lucky me, the guy on work experience. "Specifically, you were using the internet without a booking, nor did you pay for it."

"I didn't do anything wrong. There's no reason to pay for something I didn't reserve."

"But-" I cut myself off. This wasn't going to get anywhere. "Alright, can you explain how you manage to access the computer, without a booking?" Normally, you needed one of the staff to unlock it so that you were able to use it, but somehow…

Sherlock shrugged, and his next words were too casual, too indifferent. "I found it like that."

For that to happen more than once was much too coincidental to be true. The only thing I could come up with was that he had somehow managed to hack into the system. Hmph, smart kids. A waste of a brain, to be spending time hacking into local internet cafés.

"Why did you do this, Sherlock?"

Despite his earlier claims that he didn't 'do anything', Sherlock just shrugged with a slight smirk on his face. "I was bored."

Deciding that I wouldn't get any more out of him, and anyway I had enough information to go on, I stood up and opened the door of the interrogation room. I stepped to the side to let him out first, walking him to the front of the station before letting him go on his own.

Turning around, I handed over my reports to the receptionist to file. She glanced down at them before giving me a brief smile. "That was pretty good for your first experience."

I smiled weakly, head spinning with that strange meeting I just had. Suddenly, a thought struck me and I ran outside to call out to him.

"Sherlock!" He turned to look at me as I caught up with him, staying a few meters away.

"What school do you go to Sherlock?"

A slight tense in the shoulders, I noticed. "Don't go to one."

I raised an eyebrow, although I suppose it wasn't completely unexpected. "You're of school age. Shouldn't you be going to school? Your parents should know that it's illegal to not send a child to school."

"My parents aren't exactly around anymore." He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Nor are any guardians."

I frowned worriedly; orphaned? That would explain his unkempt appearance…he must be living off the streets…or something similar to that.

"You should be at a home Sherlock, they'll take care of you there…" I made to walk towards him, but before I could get very far his eyes flashed angrily and he sprinted off. "Sherlock-!"

"Leave me the _hell _alone!" A snarl appeared on his face, and for a brief second I saw the smoldering fire, the years of hatred and resentment, that lay behind those indifferent silver eyes. It shocked me, his anger, although it shouldn't have (he _was _just a kid after all), and he took the chance to run out of sight.

Later on, I mentioned Sherlock's current state to my superiors, and they promised to keep a lookout for him. I myself couldn't do much, since I was just here on work experience and that encounter with Sherlock was just a taste for what I hoped to work on one day. Yet, for the first few weeks, the police were kind enough to tell me that, yes, there were signs of Sherlock, both at 221B Baker Street and around the city. But, after that…he was gone. No traces, nothing left behind.

It was as if he was simply whisked away.

*.*.*.*.*.*

"_We are yet to know the identity of the man shot dead…one of the conspirators had various firearms with him. When he aimed at Sebastian Moran…"_

The door opened behind me, and I could hear someone approaching where I sat. I didn't move my eyes from the screen, instead focusing solely on the report.

"You're watching that broadcast again?"

I nodded absentmindedly, not completely paying attention to my colleague.

"You know, they still haven't found out who he is. No form of ID, no items that even hinted at who he was, nothing. They even traced him back to his hideout, and there was nothing there either." I heard him give a small sigh. "If you ask me, none of them are willing to probe further, especially after the whole incident with Moriarty just ended…"

An awkward silence hung between us, each of us remembering. After all, how could we forget? The end of 5 years of living in a terror-stricken world was not something you could forget easily.

Eventually, my companion continued. "Although, since he was a 'friend' of John's, I tried Wammy's House and…guess what? Turns out he was the first potential successor, John being second."

"Wammy's House?" That startled me, and things started to click together in my mind. "So, the lack of papers…"

"All destroyed. Probably to protect their identities."

"I see…" I understood now. "Wammy's _is _an orphanage, so that would explain why…he was bright after all, very bright, to be first best. The sudden disappearance…" I mused out loud, ignoring the strange look my friend was giving me. "I get it now."

"Did you know him, Greg?"

"You could say that, Anderson." I smiled bitterly. I had hoped for a better future for him, not…this. He was probably already forgotten, bigger, more important events, hiding the role he had played in the course of life. Call me soft-hearted, but…

To the world, Sherlock Holmes may be but another loser in the race of life, leaving neither mark nor trace of his existence, but I could never forget the little boy with the burning silver eyes who hacked the internet café in his free time.


End file.
